How is it possible that we are eating right now?

My father and I have a very challenging relationship. It’s both exhausting and inexhaustible but it’s all I know.

Last week, I went to the good ol’ USA for a visit. My father was prepared to make me dinner one night. He’s an incredible cook who whips up tantalizing, mouth watering vegetables and potatoes that I dream about regularly and forcing him to cook for me is non negotiable.

On the night we were set to have our dinner date, my father said something that pissed me off far beyond my capacity to manage my emotions. It sparked a meltdown that started in my stomach, as it always does, snaked up my esophagus and, like a geyser, exploded from my eyes in the form of a “salty discharge” (Seinfeld reference). An uncontrollable fountain of raging tears with nothing to plug them.

Unfortunately the timing was all off. 

Because this explosion occurred right before dinner. And I COULD NOT miss this dinner.

So here I am crying like a 9-year-old who lost her favorite Barbie. 

We sit down at the dining room table. My father places a salad in the center. He asks me to serve it. I do. In between bouts of sobs, I eat.

He gets up to take a bowl of steamed and oh-so-perfectly-seasoned cauliflower from the kitchen. Comes back to the table, serves me and then himself. I’m still crying. Again, in between bouts of sobs, I eat.

He gets up again to retrieve the third and final course from the oven. It’s a gorgeous & colorful pan full of roasted peppers, onions, potatoes, broccoli, and tomatoes. He sets it in front of me. The aroma is captivating. 

Yet I totally lose it. I can’t stop crying and this time, to my absolute horror, I find that I can’t even eat.

“Do you need to sit on the couch?” he says. Yes. Good idea. Like a zombie I stumble to the sofa. I’m convulsing and shaking and I can’t articulate the cause. My dad approaches cautiously, sits next to me and wraps his arms around shoulders. Doesn’t it sound sweet? 

Except he’s chewing, loudly, in my ear. I can literally feel his jaw protracting into my deltoid with each bite he takes. After about 10 seconds he rises, returns to the dining room table and continues eating.

It’s slowly dawning on me how ridiculous this is. (It would have made a great addition to The Tony Show.)

By now, panic is setting in. Is my food getting cold? What if he eats it all? What time is it? My friend is picking me up in an hour, I really gotta get myself together if I want to have dinner before she arrives.

I cease crying, stand up, slip into my seat at the table. I look at my dish, stab a pepper, stuff it into my mouth. It’s delicious. I reach for an onion. Ugh, divine. As I continue to dive into my long-awaited plate of veggies, I listen to us chewing in silence and consider if I have it in me to laugh.

How is it possible that we are eating right now? Would a “normal" family push their plates away? Why hasn’t it occurred to either of us that this might not be an appropriate time to chow down on perfectly crafted cauliflower? 

Is it because discussing our feelings is out of the question? He doesn’t know how to do that. Is it because while I can’t digest our relationship, I can at least digest his food? Is it an addiction? A distraction? A display of love because this is the way we show it?

Does it even f*cking matter?

In the movie The Big Night (one of my FAVORITE MOVIES OF ALL TIME) there is a beautiful scene that closes out the film. There are two brothers, Secondo (played by Stanley Tucci) and Primo. They own an Italian restaurant in New Jersey. Secondo is making breakfast in the restaurant’s kitchen the morning after he and Primo have a dramatically laughable fight. When Primo, disheveled, walks into the kitchen, Secondo quietly fixes him a plate. They sit down together (with the busboy, a fun and unexpected cameo performance by a famous singer, now you have to watch it) and eat in silence. All you can hear is the clinking of forks on plates and the men chewing. The scene is striking and, without words, says everything you need to know.

I repeat: without words, says everything you need to know.

(Happy Father’s Day, Pops.)

My book is coming out soon. Interested? Let me know here.

With love,

Bethany